CONT: Fallout, Chapter 4
by lucindamellark
Summary: What would happen if the Hunger Games characters read the Hunger Games trilogy? Just a continuation of FALLOUT


I did not steal my idea from anyone. Or anything. I really liked the idea, and I hope you all like the story! I do not own anything. Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins, etc etc.

ALSO I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long! Things have been really hectic, and anyway, I'm going to be updating a lot more frequently (hopefully).

The Note, or the Death Sentence

Everyone in the room paused, preparing for the next chapter, but no sound came from where Finnick stood outside.

"HELLO?" yelled Haymitch out the window, "ARE YOU GOING TO MAYBE _TELL THE STORY?"_

"HANG ON," he yelled back, "I FOUND A NOTE AT THE BACK!"

"Can someone go let him in, unfortunately?" said Haymitch, resulting in defeated glances all around the room. "What? We need to let him in if we want to see this note."

"What if he's lying?" asked Peeta, "It's more likely that he's lying so he can get back in here."

"THANK YOU PEETA, FOR YOUR UTMOST FAITH," yelled Finnick through the window, "HOWEVER, AS CONVINCING AS YOUR ARGUMENT IS, I AM HOLDING A SHEET OF PAPER THAT SAYS "TO HAYMITCH AND RESPECTED COMPANY," AND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE IT THEN I CAN KEEP IT TO MYSELF."

"Can someone just let him in, already?" sighed Gale, "I don't have forever to wait in this diseased room."

"Yeah," added Johanna, "who knows what unknown illness we've all probably contracted by now."

"Thank you both for your kind words," said Haymitch sarcastically, "but seeing as neither of you have gone to open the door, I take it that you, in fact, _enjoy _this room."

"CAN SOMEONE JUST OPEN THE DOOR?" yelled Finnick, "IT'S QUITE COLD OUT HERE."

"Fine," sighed Katniss, and she went to go unlock the door, bringing in a slightly rumpled looking Finnick, with dirt running down the side of his face where he obviously fell. For the first time, however, Finnick wasn't wearing a smirk or anything near a smile; in fact, he looked as though someone had just delivered a notice saying all his loved ones had perished in a fire.

"What's the matter, Finnick, the Capitol forgot to iron your bed sheets today?" asked Johanna sarcastically, "you look like you just got your death sentence."

"That's because I did, technically," he muttered, "see for yourself."

"Wait, what does he mean by death sentence, Haymitch," started Gale, reaching for the note in Finnick's outstretched hand, "he can't be serious."

Haymitch, however, grabbed the note before Gale could. "I don't know, why don't you let me actually read it first," said Haymitch.

_ Dear Haymitch, and Respected Company of Characters,_

_My name is Suzanne Collins. Something you should know about me is that I do not exist in your world; how strange must that sound to you, and I understand that you do not believe me. That is perfectly normal; why should you? You can try and search throughout all your twelve districts, but I will be in none. Why is that? Because I exist in the future. My ancestors have already lived through your story, and they exist among you right now. Your world is a thing of the past, and the only place that I have been able to trace it in is through history books and the stories passed down through my family. But that is unnecessary. The real thing that I would like to discuss with you is these books that I have arranged for you to get promptly at this time. My generation has things such as time travel that enable for this to happen._

_The point of these books, however, is nothing but a warning. The events that will occur within these pages will happen to you. There will be some of you whose deaths will be foretold within the pages of these three novels. Do not be scared; there is nothing you can do to change the course of events that are in here. If you try, you will cease to exist. _

_I feel as though the way each of your stories played out was unjust, and because it is this particular group of people who are currently reading these books that proceeded to make the biggest historical impacts on my society, I feel like you deserve to know what's coming for you. I realize that some of you, upon reading the final pages of Mockingjay, might feel that the story I am telling you is not fair. Please don't try and change the way these events occur. It is very dangerous when one messes with the desired nature of things; trust me, I know._

_So read these books, please do. You can choose not to if that is what you want, that choice is entirely yours. Whether or not you want to know how your fate plays out is a choice that I have now given you access to. You can choose to burn the books, you can destroy them if you want. Just know that it is no one's fate but your own that lies within these pages. If you tell anyone besides who I have carefully instructed to hear the content of these pages, you will die. _

_Sincerely yours,_

_Suzanne Collins_

Everyone stayed silent for what felt like years. They all had already known that it was them who were the characters in these novels. None of them, however, could have ever guessed what terrible, terrible things these three books were. Each of them wanted to both burn the books to the ground, and also read each of them over and over again until they had them memorized. None of them, however, wanted to pick them up and continue reading. Who knew who would be the first to die? What would become of that person who had their death foretold to them in a series of embellished words? More importantly, if they did choose to know, what would they do with that information, if they could do nothing to change it?

Finally, after what felt like forever, it was none but Finnick who spoke first.

"Ok, well, that's quite morbid, to be honest, but she is right. It's our choice whether or not we want to read this. So if that clock on Haymitch's diseased wall still works, than that means it's close to lunch time. So this is how it's going to play out," he said, looking up at them all. "We all go to our individual arrangements and eat lunch, but more importantly, we will all decide whether or not we want to stay and continue reading. Those who come back will start the books from where we left off; they will have chosen their fates. But those who do not come back, just know that we will not go back if you decide you want to come back when we've already moved on. These books will be burned after we're done with them, and anyone who chooses today must not tell a soul what lies within these pages. If you do, then you heard what the note said: you'll die. The choice is yours.

"Now go."


End file.
